


like ink, like ivy

by pomme (manta)



Category: Fire Emblem: The Sacred Stones
Genre: F/F, Post-War, introspective
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-16
Updated: 2018-09-16
Packaged: 2019-07-13 02:51:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16008755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/manta/pseuds/pomme
Summary: There are other places to sleep. Rooms with blankets and pillows, and proper beds. But Tana has made her peace here, and so they settle—a pair who came to breathe, under the giant window that shows the expansive courtyard and hints at the sea.





	like ink, like ivy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strikinglight](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikinglight/gifts).



> posting meg's gift on the dot, because i have a busy day tomorrow and i'd rather be early than late!
> 
> HAPPY BIRTHDAY MEG!! i hope you have a great day and ilu and i could go on about how amazing you are but i won't and i'll just say i hope you like this <3
> 
> (note: bellona is what meg named syrene's pegasus c:)

 

 

She has shooed away all of her advisers. All of them, save for one, who is currently pillowed on Tana's lap.

Syrene's face in slumber is as calm as when she is awake. How Syrene always remains relaxed while maintaining a healthy posture, asleep or not, is a mystery. Perhaps it will stay a mystery, but Tana isn't concerned. Syrene has willingly devoted herself to Frelia—sworn to defend its nation and its people, promised loyalty and love to its princess. For all she has given—steadiness, kindness, a shoulder to lean on, a strong right arm with which she wields her lance—it is all the more important she has her share of secrets.

Bellona had fallen ill with a fever, and Syrene had nursed her through the night. In addition, the thunderstorm resulted in a snapped branch that punched a hole in the stable roof, allowing rain to pour in and soak the hay that Syrene would have slept on. Sensing her tiredness, Tana insisted she rest after training.

Rest, Tana had said, one of the rare times her words surpassed willfulness and became a command. Rest, now.

There are other places to sleep. Rooms with blankets and pillows, and proper beds. But Tana has made her peace here, and so they settle—a pair who came to breathe, under the giant window that shows the expansive courtyard and hints at the sea.

Tana hears her father in the hall outside, incredulously asking, "Princess Tana is in the library? Of her own free will?"

One of Tana's older attendants answers. "She's with General Syrene, Your Highness. If that counts for anything."

"It doesn't. But even though Tana's not there to read, I know she's in good hands." King Hayden chuckles. "You're waiting out here because Tana told you to leave?"

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Well, there's nothing to do but wait until she wants to do what you'd like her to do. She's become the spitting image of her mother, wouldn't you agree?"

"Undoubtedly, Your Highness."

"Well, I'll be on my way. Thank you for your endless patience with us, Diana."

"Not at all, Your Highness. It's always a pleasure serving the royal family."

More chuckling. "I'm sure it isn't. But your tact is appreciated."

"You won't tell her to come out, Your Majesty?" Diana's question is hesitant. "The foreign dignitaries have already arrived in the entrance hall with Prince Innes."

"No." A pause. Then King Hayden starts again, his voice rather gruffer than before. "No, she may join us for the welcome banquet later. She has only just returned home, and she has experienced much. Let her stay."

The footsteps fade, and Tana can't help pouting at her father's words. But he is correct; he knows her and loves her more than she'd like to admit.

She idly strokes Syrene's hair and looks around the great rows of shelves and ladders, breathing in the scent of wood and the distinctive scent of endless pages, perusing what the library was to her before, and what it has become to her.

Tana detested this place with its high arches and seemingly endless rows of books, back when she was forced to sit for hours to learn Frelian history and etiquette alongside her brother. She hated the way the stiff wooden chair dug into her back, how the tutors praised Innes as a model student, a miniature of King Hayden and the perfect ruler-to-be, while they shook their heads at her excessively round penmanship, her lack of interest in texts outside of romance and animals, her public speaking skills that had conviction but lacked finesse.

And as soundly as she was criticized in her lessons, Innes disparaged her knowledge of this library "in all the wrong ways". She knows which window has the loose latch, which, when jiggled just so, opens enough that she can safely drop onto the balcony below. She knows which book to push to enter a small but contained room in which to while away her hours, singing at the top of her lungs. She knows which dusty tomes present long, dull-sounding titles on their covers, but are, in fact, blank. Or, in the case of a certain set, contain the musings of a young woman who wasn't much older than Tana when she became queen of Frelia, too young and too old at once in her naiveté of how to rule a country and her experience in how to wield a blade, and was fond to the end of her family and her subjects.

Young Tana, inspired by the fire of a woman gone but not forgotten and who complained just as ardently as she felt about being caged in, tempted by the wind singing through the trees outside, had rebelled.

Only Syrene had managed to quell that fire, quiet it enough that Tana was coaxed back to toil just a bit more at her desk, and then only sometimes. Tana still hated lessons, but they weren't as unpleasant with Syrene to ask when she was confused, who explained what she didn't understand without enraging her like Innes did, and who would take Tana's hand after she had been scolded for the third time for improvising on a hymn's melody and was ready to throw a fit.

Eirika and Ephraim live. That, of course, is most important. But though Castle Renais still stands, it stands in ruins. The halls would never again boom with King Fado's full voice and hearty laugh as he greeted his children. The esteemed library was set ablaze, reducing generations of irreplaceable collections of tomes and scripts to ash. And though Tana still has not picked up a book after returning home, she has since learned being surrounded by minds that are long gone but still live on in the pages is yet another comfort she forgot she had.

Becoming a pegasus knight was unbecoming of a princess; to do so outside of wartime, especially so. Maybe that was part of its appeal. Maybe Tana wanted to do more, to _be_ more than a title and a crown on her head that she had not chosen. Maybe the day Tana decided to be a pegasus knight coincided with the day Syrene stopped visiting Castle Frelia to begin training in earnest.

At any rate, it was only natural, in the end, that Tana followed her.

Syrene shifts in her sleep, turning to lie on her back. Tana raises a hand, attempting to mold her palm to Syrene's face and memorize its every groove in one gentle stroke. Even now, Syrene is why the library is bright, holding a place in Tana's heart the way a book makes its home on a shelf.

A patch of sunlight has found them. It warms the red cushions, setting the stray strands of Syrene's hair aglow like vines climbing a brick wall. In ordinary circumstances, the overexposure would make reading difficult.

But they are not in the library to read.

 

 


End file.
